


Shark's Teeth

by onthewaters



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dark, Dark Character, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthewaters/pseuds/onthewaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's jerking off. That's fine. The problem is his material.</p><p>Written for SGA flashfic shark challenge back in 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of Sight

Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear  
And he shows them pearly white.  
Just a jack knife has Macheath, dear  
And he keeps it out of sight.

\- The Threepenny Opera, Bertold Brecht/Kurt Weill, English by Marc Blitzstein

 

It makes John Sheppard laugh in the privacy of his own mind, that he has turned out to be the hero of Atlantis. The hero of Elizabeth Weir, who prides herself on her diplomatic skills and her ability to read people. The hero of Teyla Emmagen, who follows his leadership and seeks to educate him in the ways of her people. The hero of Aiden Ford, who used to crush on him, his leader and role model. The hero of Ronon Dex, who needs orders, his orders, like he needs air to breathe and who gets off on it. The hero of Carson Beckett, who in his own feeble way tries to stand up against him and fails, and in failing raises John higher than he's ever been. The hero of Radek Zelenka, whose terror of going off-world blinds him to the truth.

He leans back against the wall, raking his nails up his inner thigh. The sounds from the speakers are fueling his arousal, burning him.

Yes, it's a laugh. None of them have even caught a glimpse of what is underneath. None of them have the slightest idea what John Sheppard is truly capable of. Not that he will ever show them, oh no. It's not as if he wants to look at it himself.

The famous black mark? He deserved that - and no matter what the official reason, the officers at his court martial knew full well why they posted him to Antarctica. They couldn't prove it, couldn't prove that something in him just shorted out, and that he wanted blood. By the time he came back to himself, he tried to rescue those soldiers, but of course, it was far, far too late.

Since then he's become more careful. He's kept himself on a tighter leash than ever before, and there have been only a few slips. Nothing big. Nothing that couldn't be reasoned away, like sixty Genii all at once. Or that he agreed to torture Kavanagh. Or the Wraith baiting. Even hitting Rodney and putting him down was understandable. After all, Rodney had betrayed him first.

But it's only a question of time until he loses it again. Until the knife comes out and he - there's a scream from the speaker. He jumps, sits up, stares at the screen. This is the best part.

This is - better than porn. And he supposes he should feel guilty. But he can't quite manage it. Because it gets him so hard. It makes him come like nothing else he's ever had, and in his more lucid moments he hates that about himself. That something where not even one of the participants takes their clothes off is better than the best ever blowjob.

John's lived with this all his life. The only thing that makes it go away for a while is flying. But he can't fly twenty-four hours a day, and he can't drink enough to lose the edge. So he sits here with a surveillance video on repeat, and gets off on it. He's done this a dozen times, and it's not getting old. He's made copies of the file to make sure it can't be erased accidentally. He locks the doors and turns off the comm, and he makes sure nobody can ever disturb him while he's doing this. Getting caught jerking off would be bad enough. Getting caught jerking off to this - he'd be lucky if Elizabeth didn't throw him through the gate into nowhere.

Yes, they're almost there. The image gets blurred for a moment, that's part of it, then he can see it. A leer, another question, and oh yes, knife and red, and oh God, this is so good. Then that expression, that look of total helplessness, of pain, here come the tears, the moment of breaking - John's coming, hand stilled on his cock, but he doesn't need anything else, he can come from just this look.

The video goes on, and he lies there, eyes closed, as a sobbing voice spills secrets, interspersed with begging, a gentle torturer asking for clarifications, softly, and John shudders. Turns off the laptop, gets up and washes.

The John Sheppard in the mirror is an ordinary man, nothing special about him. Nothing to tell that he's just jerked off to the video of Rodney McKay being tortured by Kolya of the Genii, and that this was the best sex he's ever had.

In an hour, he'll go to work, he'll cheer Elizabeth up, and train with Teyla and Ronon. He'll drop by the infirmary for a chat with Beckett, and he'll joke with Zelenka about the planet of the kids. He'll miss Ford, and mention that occasionally.

And he'll snark at Rodney and Rodney will snark back, and will have no idea what John has done in the hours after midnight. The knife stays out of sight as ever.

A part of John wonders what will happen if Rodney ever finds the knife.


	2. Obvious Place

See the shark with teeth like razors  
You can read his open face  
And Macheath, he's got a knife, and  
In such an obvious place.

\- The Threepenny Opera, 1976 Version on Broadway, Ralph Manheim and John Willett

 

It's when John sees the scar on Rodney's arm, pulling on whole flesh, raised and purple against the pale skin, that he thinks, tonight. Tonight, and it's been weeks. It'll be good. It'll take his edge off, letting the knife blade show. Not for long, just a while.

He doesn't know how he spends the day working next to Rodney, pretending nothing is wrong, there's no secret he could tell, and that he doesn't have a care in the world, save for fixing this whatever it is. John couldn't care less. The knife is hidden. That's the important thing.

Zelenka and Rodney are talking incessantly, so he doesn't even have to make conversation a lot, save for the occasional snarky comment to keep them off the track. He tunes out what they say, just listens to Rodney's voice, hearing it without hearing the words. Overlaid with a different cadence, one of pain and humiliation, of near-hysterical pleading, of promising everything from money, to coffee, to sex to get that knife away from him.

John concentrates on breathing, and lets himself wonder how he would feel this if Kolya had taken Rodney up on that offer instead of looking disgusted, as his soldiers laughed, joking amongst themselves what Rodney would have to offer in that department.

Rodney's climbed on a chair to get at the circuits, and John braces the splintered pillar they're in. They make a good team, Zelenka comments and John fires off something offensive that Rodney laughs at. Zelenka just shakes his head. Boys will be boys, he seems to think, and turns away, leaving John to his thoughts.

Rodney begging sounds so broken and perfect. Occasionally, John wonders how he manages not to give himself away when he has to listen to that voice every day. But then, he's the only one who knows about this. He's the only one who's seen that tape. Once the Genii were dead and lightning had raced through the city, and everyone had come back, there was chaos. Beckett out of commission with concussion, Rodney doctoring himself (and doing a piss-poor job of it), Elizabeth sitting down in Grodin's arms with shock. Nobody noticed how John copied the file to his laptop, then erased the surveillance record of that whole day. Nobody caught him. Nobody knew about the knife.

Rodney's done and climbing down. He's too close, so John turns and makes a stupid comment about the pillar. Rodney rolls his eyes, Zelenka finds it hysterical, and offers John a bottle of moonshine for his help.

It's good. And soon, it'll be better.

As the door closes behind him, the bottle's already open. Barring emergencies, he'll be undisturbed for hours.

He hesitates. Usually, he'd wait till at least 2 a.m. Today, he doesn't think he can. Not when he's been listening to Rodney's voice all day.

The moonshine burns going down, and he welcomes it. Rodney's scar is in his mind's eye, and John's already hard. But today, he'll make it to the confessing before coming, he tells himself. He wants to come to that voice, high and fast, betraying them, giving everything away, after just one little cut. He wants that so much it hurts.

More moonshine, and the laptop's turned on. Hidden where nobody would ever look for it, the file, marked, simply, drr052. He starts the program, and it cuts right in. Elizabeth is led out, Kolya's asking Rodney questions. The knife comes out soon, and John has to grip himself hard to make this last. The way Rodney's intonation changes, the stumbling over words, and during all of it, Kolya calm as anything.

There go the promises. John strokes himself once, just once, when Rodney's offering, in his own bumbling way, a blowjob, and the soldiers laugh. He's come to that laugh too often - this time, he'll make it last.

The cutting nearly does him in, but he holds on, eyes on the screen, mouth open, and oh, finally, the tears and the confession. John lets himself have it, comes and comes to the sound of Rodney McKay betraying Atlantis, betraying them all, so very weak, and for a moment he's not sure if he's just passed out.

He just lies there, eyes closed, listening to the increasingly hysterical pleading for no more pain, no more, I'll tell you everything, and sighs. God, Rodney.

The sound cuts off. John frowns. It was on repeat, wasn't it?

But when he opens his eyes, Rodney's standing there, one hand still on the laptop's touchpad, face unreadable and white.


	3. Open Blade

They're frozen, both of them. John because he's just blown himself out of the water so badly that nothing, nothing can ever hide again what he is and what he's done. Rodney? Shock, from the way all the color has leached from his face and for the first time John can remember, Rodney's face is expressionless.

He's not turned on anymore. Not even by the scar on Rodney's arm, though he can see it; Rodney hasn't put on his jacket again.

Rodney's eyes follow his, and he nods, as if to himself. Straightens a little, and John still can't read him at all. Either this is some emotion he's never seen on Rodney, or -

The thought strikes him between the eyes, and he shivers. What if Rodney has a knife, too?

But Rodney simply removes his hand from the touchpad, meeting John's eyes. He takes two steps toward John, leans forward on the bed, bracing himself on his arms. The scar is perfectly settled in John's line of sight. He swallows.

Rodney's calm. His voice is neutral, and John didn't even know that Rodney could do neutral.

"I take it you got off on that?"

It's too late to deny. "Yeah."

Rodney nods again as if another piece fits. "How long?"

Oh god, John thinks, writhing inside. "Since it happened."

Rodney's eyes widen, but that's his only reaction. "That good?"

John feels nausea rising up and suppresses it. Nods.

"It does make sense, I suppose," Rodney says contemplatively. "When you think about it."

John can't stand this anymore. Rodney's going to tell Elizabeth and she'll send him back to Earth, or to a space gate without a jumper, and John wishes Rodney would just get on with it. He makes as if to get up and feels himself slammed against the wall so hard his head makes a thunking noise.

Rodney holds him there, hand on his chin, not enough leverage if John really wants to get free, but it's already too late, John's hard again and his only thought is, don't let Rodney notice.

Rodney holds him, and his hand is sweaty and cold. John closes his eyes. He's so going down.

"Major. John." He doesn't move. "Open your eyes."

It's an order and who knew that this poster child for Ritalin could be so cool. John opens his eyes to an actual expression. Rodney has that look again, the one where something has hurt him and he'll never admit that.

"I'd like to know why me."

What to say to that. "I had the surveillance video. It just - got me hot." It's the long and the short of it. And he's hot again, from being pushed against the wall. But he knows enough to know that he can't get himself fixed.

Rodney nods again. "The hitting? You stopped by yourself."

"Didn't want to give myself away," John says, feeling tired. "Never could hit you really hard, either."

Rodney nods again, lets him go, and sits back, seeing John's erection and ignoring it. John moves back from the wall, and covers himself with his t-shirt.

Rodney watches him, still unnaturally calm. Something clicks in John's mind.

"You knew."

"No," Rodney says. "I knew someone wiped the surveillance from that day. It wasn't Grodin, it wasn't Elizabeth, it wasn't me. That left you as the only one with the codes. I found a record that it was copied while I was searching the protocols for the bomb trigger. Imagine my surprise." His mouth twists. "At first I figured you were looking for information on the Genii. Strategy and all that. I was going to ask you about it."

This is huge. Rodney knew he had the video and never said anything.

Rodney's leaning forward again. "Then I looked at it again. Only about an hour of video was copied. Now tell me, why can't you go pull the wings off flies like normal people?"

John can't help it; he laughs. Only Rodney.

Rodney sighs. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

John's suddenly tired of it. "Well, how should I know? What do you want to do?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. "You know, this wouldn't be such a problem if I wasn't flattered in a very strange way and if you quote me on that, I will deny it to my dying day."

John laughs again. "Rodney, has it occurred to you that that's almost as fucked up as me?"

He gets the disgruntled face. "Yes, as a matter of fact it has. So, let's look at this rationally. Will you stop this?"

He's earned honesty at least. "Only if you get rid of the video. Also, it'll probably bleed through at some point."

"The hitting? The Wraith-baiting?"

John nods. Thank god for Rodney, who is, on some level, just so wonderfully easy to deal with. "Sixty Genii all at once, seeing all of you tied up. Afghanistan."

Rodney nods. Again, John finds it easy to talk about this. Who would have known? "Classic sadism?"

"Uh, no, not really. More like violence oriented." Rodney snorts; John rolls his eyes at him. "Adrenaline, blood." He swallows, going into dangerous territory. "Humiliation. Power struggles."

Rodney shakes his head. "Why couldn't you have stuck with the flies?"

"That'd give the term flyboy a totally new meaning," John snarks back, and for a second, they're all right with the world.

Then Rodney gets up. "Keep the video. But I'm watching you. One slip, and I'll blow the whole thing wide open."

John nods. It's a reprieve at least. "You may have to. I've never been able to control it that well."

"Explains your issues," Rodney says, looks at the laptop and sighs. "Why couldn't you get off on my sheer brilliance?"

He leaves then, and John stares at the laptop. You can replace an addiction with another, he knows that. Maybe - if he tries? In the video, it's Rodney's face and voice that got him so hot. This might work.

He calls up the file, in the Fonts folder.

But what if it's not enough? What if he needs this again? What if without this the knife edge does show again?

John closes his eyes, and deletes the file. Fail or succeed. Blood or laughter.

Pain or Rodney.

He just hopes he's strong enough.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about Critical Mass, and dark!John and this came out.
> 
> ***
> 
> If you consider posting this work to Goodreads: Please do not do it. These stories are fanfiction, and I don't want them near a site that's primarily for published original fiction.
> 
> While I appreciate that you might enjoy having them on your Goodreads shelves, please respect my wishes.
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
